Recruits
by MadHatter10by6
Summary: An unscrupulous megalomaniacal organization brings several mutants out of obscurity and places them in a fight for their lives. Through their adventure, these young mutants will discover new strengths, abolish old weaknesses, and form stronger alliences.
1. Chapter 1

_(Brief notes: Okay, here it is! The fruits of our labors. I want to thank everyone on the "Create you own mutant" thread whose ideas and creations made this all possible (you know, I just noticed about a week ago that I had written "you" instead of "your." After almost a year, I'm too embarrassed to change it). I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and based on your reviews, I will write many more! If you are unfamiliar with the thread in question, it can be located on the IMDB under the film "X-Men: The Last Stand." There, you can find more information concerning the characters here, as well as some surprise ones that may pop up in future chapters. A few details about some of my own mutants have been altered, but only just.)_

**Disclaimer: The only fictional characters who I do NOT own in this story are Die-Hard (credit to "glocktwentyseven") and Jennifer Abbate (thank you, Sparkleworks05). And, of course, Professor Charles Xavier and Cerebro are property of Marvel Comics, respectively.**

**Enjoy!**

**********

"Tickets, please."

Cameron Smythe had all but completely drifted off to sleep when he heard the reserved, yet authoritative sounding voice of the conductor. Startled, he straightened up in his soft seat, adjusting his shirt. "What?" he asked.

"Cam, get your ticket out," his friend Lewis said from the seat next to him, his ticket already held up.

"Ticket? Oh, right, right," Cameron understood, noticing the impatient-looking conductor. He reached a hand into his bag, and after a few seconds, pulled out his own passage. He held it up for the conductor to acknowledge, but he had already walked on to the next row of the train. "Tickets, please... Tickets, please..."

"Hmmm..." said Cameron, crumpling the ticket into his pants pocket. "I guess the honor system is still in effect."

"Nah," Lewis remarked, now shuffling through his backpack. "Just apathy."

Cameron smiled a little, then leaned back in his seat, his eyes casually glancing at the varied, ever-changing landscape as their train zipped along on its route. When they left Cleveland earlier, dark, hollow tunnels punctuated by the occasional view of the city ensnared his attention. The bustling city slowly lessened in magnitude until the horizon was something reminiscent of his native Albany, New York. Scenic, rural areas slowly blended into a quaint suburb before melding into buildings that reached higher and higher into the sky. The pattern would typically begin anew... such was usually the way with long trips. Sighing, he checked his watch for what seemed to be the tenth time in an hour. "How much longer?" he asked Lewis.

"About forty-five minutes," Lewis answered, reading a magazine he'd bought back at the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame Museum in Cleveland. "One more stop, I think. Then us."

"Okay," Cameron answered, looking back out the window. "Thanks."

"You've been asking the time for the past two hours," Lewis reminded. "You should have brought a book or something."

"Yeah," a voice from the seat behind Lewis said. "Or are you just in a hurry to get home?"

Cameron twisted his neck to meet the gaze of Daniel, now propping himself up, much to his neighboring passenger's annoyance.

"No, no," insisted Cameron. "Well... kind of. I have class tomorrow, and I've got to read a couple of chapters for sociology. Plus, I have to talk with Pr-....." he immediately silenced himself. He had since concluded that it was best to keep most of the details as to his place of residence secret. Naturally, that included the enigmatic Professor Charles Xavier. The fact that they were on a crowded passenger train did not help matters. "I have to talk with our teacher," he recited, feeling slightly guilty about referring to one of the most powerful mutants he had ever met as a "teacher," "About the new students coming up next month."

"Oh, them," Daniel remembered, nodding. "You still want to be in charge of that?"

"Why not?" propositioned Cameron, now turning his torso the best he could to face the third member of the trio. "I have some good ideas, and I think I can help them get adjusted to the inst-...um... school. I know how to relate to others pretty well."

"Relate to them?" asked Lewis, looking away from his magazine. "Cam, you'd just be a tour guide and help them find their rooms and classes."

"Well... Yeah..." admitted Cameron. "But I'd like show 'our teacher' that I can be more helpful."

"You don't have to prove yourself, man," Daniel remarked. "You have a right to be there like everyone else." Lewis nodded in agreement, then once again turned his attention to his publication, which featured a very detailed article about Billy Joel.

Cameron bit his lip and averted his gaze; his brown eyes slowly moving back toward the window. Inadvertently, he let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a groan. Unfortunately, this reactivated Lewis's attention. Daniel also frowned concernedly.

"What?" Lewis asked.

"What?" Cameron parroted, trying to remain casual.

"C'mon, we know that look," Daniel prodded, lightly poking Cameron on his shoulder. "Something's on your mind, isn't it?"

"Excuse me, young man," Daniel's neighbor interjected with a look of distaste. Rudely, she shoved past the younger man before he could successfully abscond from his seat. Grumbling to herself, she marched down the compartment and out of sight. "What a grouch," Lewis remarked, putting their thoughts into words.

"Thought she'd never leave," Daniel said, now kneeling on his seat. "So, what's up, Cam?"

Cameron was silent for a moment. It wasn't that he didn't trust Lewis or Daniel; the three of them had been friends since their first months together at the Institute. The three of them often shared stories, fears, and secret ambitions with each other. In fact, close bonds were practically an inevitability at the Institute. People from all over the country... all over the world congregated there with hopes of finding acceptance, despite their "talents." Almost all of them were rewarded for their optimism... even more than they had anticipated. Being constantly surrounded with others who could empathize and appreciate each other's hardships, discrimination and (in some rarer cases) their mental and physical abuse unfairly endured because they were born different. Although the three of them were born without any physical irregularities at first glance (Cameron was vividly reminded of the day he met a mutant who was over seven feet tall, covered head to toe in bristly brown fur, complete with a pig's snout and two ivory tusks), they still had their share of unwanted attention from their respective community members due to that infinitesimal X gene in their bodies.

However, in a strange twist of irony, Cameron's "gift" was precisely the source of his occasional feelings of insecurity and doubt.

"Well," Cameron began, deciding that their friendship was slightly stronger than his own pathetic reasoning. "The others at the school... the other students... not you guys, but most of the others...."

"You don't like them?" prompted Lewis.

"No, they're cool," assured Cameron. "They're great, but... I don't think they..."

"What?" asked Daniel impatiently. "What is it?"

"I don't think they take me seriously," he summarized simply.

Cameron's two companions just stared and blinked.

"What?" they asked at almost the same time.

Cameron swallowed before continuing. "I mean, I don't think I'm... like... 'in the club.'

"Club?" asked Daniel.

"Yeah," Cameron confirmed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I mean, Lewis, you can make smoke whenever you want. You can cloak yourself like a squid or something, or you could choke anyone who tries to mess with you. _And_ you said that you can breath any air, no matter how polluted it is."

"Definitely. I went three days in the city without coughing, didn't I?" asked Lewis, smirking and getting a chuckle out of Daniel. "What's your point?"

"I'm not finished," Cameron said politely. He turned to give Daniel proper attention. "Dan, you just... wow," he resigned, shaking his head. "You can do all sorts of amazing things. I've never seen you get injured. When you were on the roof last year getting our frisbee and you fell off, that should have killed you, but instead you just sort of... bounced away."

"I call that the 'accordion slam,'" Daniel pointed out.

"Whatever; it was cool. And, and you can get beaten up and never even feel a thing, like a...."

"Cartoon?" Dan suggested.

"Yeah. Like a cartoon. _And_ you can do that thing where you can make stuff out of thin air. You're practically Mr. Game & Watch! When we were at the concert, you materialized backstage passes for us!"

Daniel's smile disappeared instantly. "Right..." he began uneasily. "Ah... keep that between us, okay? I think it goes against the 'personal gain' rule or something."

Lewis laughed openly. Cameron however, looked sullen.

"I won't tell anyone," promised Cameron. "But my point is, you guys have-" he looked around suspiciously before continuing. "You guys have abilities that make you really... special. You're practically super heros. Our classmates know it, and our teachers know it. You can do really impressive things that you'd find in a comic book." Cameron sighed again. "Well, what can I do?"

Daniel scratched his coal-black hair. Lewis shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "You..." Lewis tried to say. "You can.."

"Voices," Cameron interrupted, a hint of disdain corrupting and permeating his normally civil manner of speech. "I do voices." Sighing once again, he turned his gaze out the window, watching the lighted skyline of New York City slowly come into view.

**********

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking," the PA system crackled to life. "We are now beginning our descent into J. F. Kennedy International Airport. Please return your seats to their upright position, and lock your tray tables..."

Without a moment's hesitation, Jennifer immediately complied, anxious for her excruciatingly long and tumultuous flight to finally be at its end. She made sure to exceed the flight crew's expectations, even depositing her empty water bottle and candy wrapper into a plastic bag and yanking out her pillow from behind her back to place neatly in front of her.

With trembling fingers and a her foot tapping nervously, Jennifer sat back and mentally prepared herself for her first visit to the USA. It was difficult, though; she had never left Ireland, before. In fact, she had only just begun to travel outside of Cork a few years prior. So when she had been contacted by the Xavier Institute in New York, inviting her to stay and study with them, she was initially apprehensive and uneasy. However, after corresponding with the Institute's liaisons via email, and having a long heart-to-heart with her godfather who'd convinced her to take advantage of such wonderful opportunities, she finally decided that she'd spend a couple of weeks at the Institute. Just to watch, of course. She would make no commitments until she was absolutely certain that it was the right place to be.

With a deep breath, she casually strolled down memory lane. When she had received a detailed, hand-written letter from a man named Charles Xavier, she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. First of all, how had a man she had never heard of come into possession of her home address located over three thousand miles away? She had immediately assumed that this Charles was an old associate of her godfather/legal guardian, James. However, when she showed the letter to him, James was just as confused as his "daughter."

What was even stranger about the matter was that the letter seemed to be an answer to her life's biggest source of worry and despair. Ever since her parents had departed, all Jennifer had hoped for was to find others like her... others who were "special," according to James. The man who had never given up on her, even after her own parents had.

"'s okay, m'dear," she clearly remembered him saying to her as she sat next to him on their home's musty old sofa years ago. "I've got the oddment in me, as well. I know what yer goin' t'rough, and let me say this: what you've got isn't a curse. Not at all. It is a gift," he insisted, staring into her eyes that normally cast fascination and fear on others. "You are special. Truly special. But you can't try t' make the others understand. You've got to find others like you. Like us. They're the ones who will understand you. People who can help you reach your fullest potential," he choked, almost crying. "Only then will you find true acceptance."

He had held her hand in his own before continuing. "But make sure you're on the right side, m'dear. Make sure that you're with those who want to use your abilities for the greater good. A thief is a thief. Human or not..."

Jennifer took his advice to heart, and researched the Xavier Institute. She wasn't sure how, but the Professor's letter seemed to radiate warmth and compassion from the very pages on which it was written. It went on to describe the ideal living conditions, plentitude of classes to take, and the other "mutants," he had said as delicately as possible, who could offer her guidance and insight though her life. Professor Xavier, from what she could decipher, had discovered her presence through a faculty member named "Cerebro" (odd that he had somehow forgotten to write "Mr., Mrs., or Ms." preceding it). But if this "Cerebro" was as intelligent and compassionate as the professor, Jennifer decided she needn't be worried.

Finally, after deciding that she wasn't getting any younger, and the fact that she relied heavily on the advice of James, a fellow mutant, she packed some bags, bid her godfather a tearful goodbye at the airport, and began her journey across the Atlantic.

Jennifer would have greatly appreciated a stress-free flight to commemorate her first trip abroad. Regrettably, the fates had other ideas. Not only had she been forced to have a connecting flight in Frankfurt, Germany, but her first flight from Dublin had inexplicably been delayed by forty minutes. After she had touched down in Germany, she literally _ran_ through the airport with her trademark "Irish Pride" backpack bouncing along with her. She grimaced as she recalled that she was stopped by security twice. Apparently, the sight of an eighteen year old foreign girl with unnaturally pale skin and crimson eyes running panicked through an airport was a major red flag. Further complicating matters was the fact that Jennifer was much better versed in Gaelic than German. The guards checked her passport, said something along the lines of "Das ist verboten, mein Liebchen," and sent her on her way.

Thankfully, she boarded her flight with less than five minutes before taking off. She'd tried to relax the best she could, but there was simply too much awaiting her in the USA for her to properly rest. Once she checked into her hotel, she'd think about getting some dinner, taking some pictures of the city, and then try to get a lot of sleep. She'd heard horrible stories about jet-lag...

"Flight attendants, please prepare for landing."

Steeling her nerves and gazing out the window at the massive metropolitan city below, Jennifer prayed that, even if the Xavier Institute wasn't for her, that something wonderful would still come out of her visit to America.

"All right, then," she resolved softly to herself, taking in the full view of the mighty Empire State Building. "Give me strength, Lord. Maybe I can do this wit'out James, but I can't wit'out _You_."

**********

ETA: 00:26:35.05

Less than thirty minutes... they'd be in position in less than thirty minutes.

Never blinking, the tall, dark-haired man in the forest green suit cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his exquisite leather chair. He averted his gaze from his computer screen and stared at the shorter man in a plain black suit who was fidgeting nervously in the huge, palatial office.

"Twenty-six minutes," the taller man stated. It was not an ordinary proclamation; more like a proposition. He obviously expected a very specific response.

"Yes!" the shorter man exclaimed with nervous excitement. He tried to calm himself and spoke more carefully. "Everything is in place, Mr. Krieg," the nervous man stammered.

Mr. Krieg smiled and took out a pricey cigar from his jacket pocket. "Relax, Sam," he said genially. "If everything is set, everything is ready, then you have nothing to fear."

Sam nodded, but did not seem entirely convinced.

"After all," Mr. Krieg remarked, setting his cigar ablaze with a solid gold lighter. "If there was any mistake in the reception, your head wouldn't roll." Krieg leaned back more and placed his expensive handmade Italian shoes atop his solid marble, hand carved imported desk. "Your job was simply to identify our _recruits_," he raised his eyebrows at the last word. "And determine when they'd be arriving," he concluded.

"Yes, sir," Sam concurred. "I'm just a little jumpy, I guess. This is my first assignment when we were intercepting more than one mutant at a time."

"Hey," Krieg said in between puffs of smoke. "You set up the last mutant for capture, didn't you? She was a fighter! Our toughest, yet, and we were successful. A little banged up, but still..."

"Thank you, sir," Sam acknowledged proudly. "Um... If I may ask, what are we going to do with her?"

"Don't worry, my lad," Krieg replied enigmatically. "That's _my_ concern. Not yours."

"Yes, sir," said Sam, swallowing.

Krieg sighed. Sam had all the proper markings of a good businessman. Except confidence.

"Tell you what," suggested Krieg, now putting out his cigar on a silver ashtray. "Why don't we go over the specifics one more time. It'll give you peace of mind."

"Very good, sir." Sam opened a manilla folder containing three separate documents with a photograph attached to each one. In a manner akin to rehearsing for a play, Sam related the contents with flawless diction and perfect clarity:

"Mutant number 181: Daniel Huang. A.K.A.: "Hammerspace." Abilities: metaphysical distortion and shaping of body mass, superhuman stamina, and spontaneous creation of three-dimensional objects through atomic modification of air molecules."

"Now _that_ one I have to see," added Krieg, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied automatically. "Mutant number 182: Cameron Smythe. A. K. A: "Vox." Abilities... I mean, ability: copying voices with 100% accuracy."

There was an awkward silence. "You're sure that's all he can do?"

"Yes, sir," Sam said guiltily. "Our sources are exhausted. His only skill is voice mimicry."

Krieg grumbled. "Well, better than nothing. Last one?"

"Mutant number 183: Lewis Weigand. A. K. A: "Koffing," Sam stifled a laugh. "Abilities: can release clouds of toxic smoke from his pores, and superhuman lungs that can filter any and all impurities."

"Good. You see?" Krieg reassured. "You haven't missed anything. Now regale me with the operation," he requested with exaggerated theatrics, putting his hands behind his head.

"Mutants 181 through 183, according to the mainframe, have purchased three train tickets from Cleveland, Ohio to New York City, New York. The date is for today, the 24th of July, and their train is set to arrive at 7:05 pm. Our people will intercept them at the station via our usual method, and after applying the appropriate security measures, transport them here for subsequent interrogation and detention."

Krieg smiled, observing his young protégée. "You see, Sam? I don't know why you always worry. You're careful, and I respect that, but whether you choose to admit it or not, _you are fully capable at this job_. I knew you would be when I first brought you on." Krieg casually adjusted his embroidered silk tie. "It's a simple recruitment, just like-"

Krieg was cut short as his cellular phone rang in its electronic way. "Excuse me," he asked Sam before fishing out a cell phone made even tinier in his huge hand. With a flick of the wrist, Krieg flipped open his phone and mashed a button with his finger.

"Yes?" Krieg asked. Sam was silent as his employer quietly listened. Krieg's words had taken a hold of him. He was starting to relax, even breathe easier. However, he felt telltale panic in his abdomen when he suddenly saw Krieg's face frown slightly. "What?" Krieg asked in a way that made Sam shake. The green-suited man set his feet back on the floor and rested his free hand on his desk. "Are you sure?" he asked. Krieg's face was unreadable as he nodded, occasionally emitting "Yes," "Right," or "Okay."

This went on for several minutes. Finally, Krieg took a deep breath and rapped his stony knuckles on the marble. "All right," he said into the lilliputian phone. "Send me the specifics.... yes... fine... very good. Danke schon. Auf Wiedersehen." With his eyes trained on his computer, Krieg casually turned off his phone, flipped it shut, and put it back in his pocket.

Sam watched Krieg make a few keystrokes on the computer before meekly asking, "Sir?"

"Change of plans," said Krieg, still typing.

"Change?" Sam did not like the sound of that.

"Well, more like a bonus," Krieg said. "My contacts in Europe just stumbled on a mutant heading for New York."

"Another one?"

"Yeah," Krieg answered, now pushing his chair back and standing to his feet. "Seems there was an incident in Germany. One of my agents at the Frankfurt airport encountered a girl who looked mighty strange. On a hunch, he took her name, ran it through the system, and what do you know..."

"They've confirmed she's a mutant?" Sam asked anxiously, butterflies once again taking up residence in his stomach.

"Let's just say there are some 'inconsistencies,'" Krieg replied. "We don't know the extent of her abilities yet, so I think the old 'stun n' run' will have to do." He laughed in a self-satisfied kind of way.

"We... We'll be taking her too, then?"

"Yeah," Krieg said, now unwrapping a rare, delicate French candy from a silver dish. "Not too many foreign mutants, here. That makes her a collectable, doesn't it?" Krieg smiled and popped the candy into his mouth. He held another one out to Sam, who eagerly accepted it.

"Thank you, sir," Sam expressed. "Shall I take down what information we have?"

"Please," replied his superior, walking toward the doorway. "They'll be sending her file over. She's set to arrive at good old JFK in about a half hour. Alert one of our teams, classify it as 'Immediate Incapacitation,' and send a copy of her itinerary to each of them. After that," Krieg left, waiting for Sam to write it all down.

"Sir?"

Krieg smiled. "After that, why don't you join me up in the lounge?" he was almost out into the hallway when he turned back at the younger man. "You look like you could use a drink."

With that, the enormous man marched out of his office, singing "Cotton Fields" under his breath.

Sam watched him go for a second, then headed to the computer. Pen in hand, he made a few quick notes on a sheet of paper based on what was visible on the computer screen. It looked to be a passport application.

"Mutant 184..." Sam mumbled to himself. "Jennifer Abbate..."


	2. Chapter 2

_(Brief notes: In this chapter, I like to think I gave the mutants a little more identity and development of their characters, particularly Jennifer. FYI, her dialogue between her and the airport employee is based on an actual experience I had some years ago... I hope you enjoy this chapter as much (if not more) than the first, and for those of you anticipating the appearance of Die-Hard, she'll be in the next chapter.) _

By the time the train finally pulled into Penn Station and jerked to a stop, Cameron was more anxious than ever to disembark and finally stretch his legs, lest they might have begun to atrophy. Lewis had spent the last twenty minutes discussing the various forms of rock n' roll they had been subjected to during their sojourn in Cleveland, which his two travel mates actively participated in. Daniel had begun to experience some hunger pains, and he was certain that his friends would not object to stopping for a quick bite before taking a bus or taxi back to the Institute.

Fighting not to lose each other in the massive swarm of commuters, the three mutants, luggage in tow, made their way into the gloomy metallic station. Cameron instinctively grasped the bottom of his overnight bag and pulled it close to him upon noticing some of the more unsavory characters lurking around the station. Despite making numerous visits to the big city with his family and friends, Cameron was still unnerved by the size and unpredictability of New York City; particularly at night.

Lewis was much less concerned; he had plenty of experience with urban settings. Being a Des Moines native, he had grown up accustomed to them. Granted, their current setting was somewhat different from the Midwestern values and culture he was born into, but there were always some similarities to point out. Although Cameron occasionally insisted that suburbs and rural areas were safer, Lewis always countered by insisting that "a city has its good and bad,"just like any other place to live and work.

Only Daniel felt completely at home with their surroundings. Born and raised in Manhattan, he knew the city better than most of the other students, and made no attempt to conceal his knowledge. He was often sought out by classmates planning to explore the Big Apple, and who wanted his valuable advice as to the best sites, restaurants, and activities they might enjoy. Further adding to his tranquility was the fact that Daniel was never one to panic, preferring to laugh off any bad experience with a trademark wisecrack and bright smile.

"Got everything?" he asked.

"Yes," said Cameron quickly, now practically hugging his Yankees bag, crushing its logo.

"I'm good," remarked Lewis, the rubber grip of his bag's strap clutched in his hand.

"Cool. Let's go," answered Daniel, slinging his backpack over a shoulder. "You guys want to stop at Trobiano's real quick before we head home?"

"Yeah, I'm kinda hungry," decided Lewis. He turned to Cameron. "That okay with you? I know you want to head back..."

"No, that'd be fine," Cameron said, thankful to be moving away from the crowded area. "I like Trobiano's." He fidgeted slightly, adjusting the hold on his bag, but stopped when someone caught his eye.

About fifty feet away, with his back against the wall of the station, a man with a black button-up shirt and khaki pants was eying the boys intently. Cameron thought he was simply staring into space, possibly waiting for a friend or associate, but a few quick glances in his direction told Cameron that the man's head was definitely following the boys' path. He was an unassuming man, probably in his mid-thirties, balding, and bespectacled. His right hand was at about chest-level, and clutching a cellular phone. No... it wasn't a phone... it looked more like an oversize ivory pager.

"Guys?" Cameron asked nervously.

"What's up, Cam?" asked Daniel.

"There's a man staring at us over there"

Lewis craned his neck curiously. Daniel, however, just shook his head.

"That's not so unusual," he stated sagely. "I was taking the subway this one time, and there was this guy next to me, about my age, who was staring at me for twenty minutes. Never looked away once."

"No kidding?" asked Lewis.

"No kidding," the New Yorker replied. "Finally, I got off, and before I made it out the door he handed me a flyer for an independent film showing the next night. Turns out the movie was about the government's invasion of our private lives. He said he was 'advertising.'"

Cameron and Lewis laughed, while Daniel just grinned at the memory.

As the trio made their way out into the busy city streets, the man in the black shirt lifted the ivory device to his mouth.

"Mutants 181, 2 and 3 have left the station," the man said mechanically. "Unit C-5, prepare for interception."

**********

"No, no," Jennifer said as urgently as she could, trying not to panic. "I was on th' flight one-one-forty-t'ree t'is afternoon. Th' one from Dublin t' Frankfurt t' here."

The middle-aged woman at the Information kiosk just furrowed her brow in a vain attempt to decipher the girl's accent. "Huh?" she asked in a bored voice.

"M' flight," Jennifer began slowly. "M' first flight was late by about forty minutes. I had t' dash t' make m' next plane." The airport employee's face did not change, but she nodded slightly. "I made it on th' plane, but I don't t'ink my bags-"

"Miss," the woman said, annoyed. "You're gonna have to speak more clearly. I can't understand you."

Now Jennifer was feeling a bit offended. Hadn't this woman ever heard a European, before? She quickly searched her memory for the few times she had seen an American film or heard an American song, hoping she could sound more "Western."

"Ah think," she tried to pronounce as eloquently as she could manage. "My bags are still in Germany. T'... _They_ didn't come out wit' th' other bags on that machine over t'ere. I need t'...th-..._them_, because I'll be in the city for two weeks. I have tags on both; they have my hotel's address on 'em. Can you tell me if t'ey're okay?"

"Oh, alright then," the woman finally acknowledged. "You still got your baggage claim number?"

Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief and fished her ticket stub out of her green, white and orange backpack. She handed the stub over, feeling more relaxed.

The employee inspected the ticket. "Good," she remarked. To Jennifer's surprise and despair, she immediately handed it back. "Take it over to the Lost & Found kiosk there," she said, pointing a ways off. "And they can run a search. If your bags still got tags on them, they'll tell you when they'll arrive."

Jennifer turned to see a long line full of irate passengers. With pleading eyes, she turned back toward her own kiosk. "Please, ma'am," she said in a small voice. "Can't you just find out on that thing?" she asked, pointing to the computer sitting idly over the counter. "It's gettin' late, I have t' get a taxi t' m' hotel-"

"Miss, I can't do that. This isn't Lost & Found."

"This is m' first time in America; I don't-"

Jennifer's pleas were cut short as the employee's phone rang behind her. With one hand already reaching, the woman cast one final unconcerned look at the chalk-skinned girl. "I'm sorry, miss. The Lost & Found can help you." She cleared her throat in preparation for her phone. "Information. This is Hannah speaking..."

The foreigner felt her anxiety and frustration resume as she slowly and grudgingly began to turn away from the kiosk. She had not even taken one step when the woman's voice ring out: "Oh, and miss?"

For one wild moment, Jennifer thought her bags had just miraculously dropped out of the sky into New York City. She eagerly turned back around.

"See a doctor, okay?" the woman said, one hand clasped over the phone's receiver.

The girl was confused. "A doctor?"

"For those eyes," the woman said concernedly. She then resumed her conversation, her back toward Jennifer.

Jennifer did not move. She was too busy feeling her hopes for an easy transition into a foreign country evaporate. Her bags were, as far as she could tell, an entire ocean away. She had absolutely nothing to wear tomorrow... she was mortified at the thought of meeting Charles Xavier personally in the same violet top and denim skirt she had worn for nearly twenty straight hours! She had some traveler's checks, and she had already exchanged some Euros for Dollars at her bank back in Ireland... but she had very little information as to where she could find some cheap clothes to last her the next couple of days.

But all that paled in comparison to the woman's last offhanded remark. Her eyes... it seemed that no matter where she was or who she encountered, her appearance was always somehow brought into the mix. She stared down at her hand still clutching her baggage ticket... Her pale, ghostly white skin. White as milk... white as fresh-fallen snow... Even in her native country, where fair skin was not uncommon, her unique coloration had often been the subject of frequent stares and the occasional hurtful remark. She still remembered the day one of her tormentors jokingly tried to defend her, announcing to a small crowd that she was a "friendly ghost."

And her eyes... Jennifer would have given anything to have a pair of rich, lustrous brown eyes or cool, tranquil blue... or green; like two priceless emeralds shining brightly upon envious onlookers. What she was fated for, however, were eyes that looked like two ripened cherry tomatoes with centered black pupils, forever condemned inside unwilling eye sockets.

She had always thought of herself as a freak... an abomination... even though she had known from a young age that she had special abilities that distinguished her from others, she would have traded it all just to look "human." James had always tried to sympathize with her, always consoling her when she'd been bullied, spouting such cliches as "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," and "All that matters is what's inside." She always appreciated his kind words. Even if she didn't always believe them.

But there was time to stew in her feelings of insecurity after she'd made it to her hotel. Right now her main priority was to make sure her bags would be safely delivered within the next couple of days. Otherwise, her anxiety would not permit her any sleep. Perhaps her hotel would have a laundry service she could use for tomorrow...

Jennifer groaned at the prospect of waiting in yet another line for who knows how long. What if she were sent to a third location? Then it would have been a waste of time. She stared at the Information woman, still talking on her phone, never moving.

Never turning around...

Silently, she crept close, making sure her presence was unknown.

Maybe she wouldn't have to wait in a line after all...

She stopped when she reached the counter. Licking her lips and trying to act discreet to the causal bystander (or the security cameras scattered about), she gently extended her arm and raised her palm about a half inch from the machine.

Taking a few deep breaths and allowing her eyes to close halfway, she cleared her mind of all but two thoughts:

_Jennifer Abbate... Flight # 1143... Jennifer Abbate... Flight # 1143..._

Countless fine, almost invisible strands of red static... like cobwebs... began to appear almost instantaneously between her hand and the computer. Jennifer twitched involuntarily as the massive surplus of digitalized information was suddenly linked to her own conscious mind. It was like hearing another language, but much deeper than that. She was bombarded with ideas... thoughts that she somehow decode. The information swarmed Jennifer like grains of sand buffeting a stone in a desert storm, but she was unconcerned. Since she was not technically absorbing any information form the computer, but merely searching for one single data point, she was not in danger of an overload and subsequent relapse.

She liked to think of it as standing alongside a rushing river. A "data stream," as James liked to call it. If she were to reach both arms into the current to try and collect some water, the momentum may pull her in and drown her. However, if she were to simply place one finger into the stream and wait for a fish to nibble, that was (relatively) safer and easier. She had some talent, but it would be many more years before she could fully control her powers. Or even understand them, for that matter.

_Abbate, Jennifer... Flight # 1143... #Bags (2)... PT: 11:16... DS: 26-7... L: Crown Hotel... West 81__st__... New York, NY. Security Clearance (approved) (approved) (approved) (approved) (approved) (approved) (approved) (approved) (approved) (approvedapprovedapproved-_

"Oh!" Jennifer abruptly yanked her hand away from the offending machine and clutched at her forehead, shuddering from the strength of the data input into her brain. Still fighting to catch her breath, she quickly grabbed her backpack and hastened away from the kiosk and chattering woman.

There was some slight throbbing in her head, but she had the information she needed. After careful analysis of the raw data, Jennifer concluded that her bags had indeed been left in Frankfurt; there had not been enough time to transfer them to her next flight. They had been located, and were due to arrive at JFK the day after tomorrow, where they would then be sent ahead to the Crown Hotel. Finally, she had at least one less thing to worry about.

As she stepped out into the warm evening air of the city, she began to observe her surroundings. This airport was busy, even at night. Taking notice of the bustling airport workers and passengers greeting their friends and family, Jennifer walked over to a sign indicating that taxis regularly stopped there.

Adjusting her hold on her backpack, she raised an arm expectantly when she heard the distinct engine of an automobile. However, when she turned her head up, she was met with the view of a long, silver car. Not quite long enough to be a limousine, but regal-looking in its own way. The windows were tinted, so Jennifer could not make out the inhabitants, but she assumed they were very much lost, to be in the completely wrong spot for specific vehicles.

"Excuse me, miss?"

The Irish girl turned upon hearing the soft, yet masculine voice. A thin man with graying hair and a black long-sleeve shirt stood expectantly, apparently unfazed by her appearance. In his hand he held a small ivory device that looked sort of like a round, fat calculator.

"Yes, sir?" Jennifer asked politely and yet firmly at the same time. After all, she did not know the man and this city was unfamiliar to her...

The sound of a car door opening along with heavy footsteps echoed behind her. The man in the black shirt smiled a little, then pressed a button on the strange device. An icy chill cut through the girl's heart. Jennifer barely had time to register an intense white light and odd sensation overpowering her, and several strong hands grasping her arms and torso from behind, before fading into unconsciousness... a scream dying in her throat.

**********

"So, are we getting a pizza three ways?" Lewis asked as the trip turned onto a less crowded, but no less active street.

"Nah, I kind of feel like a calzone," Daniel replied over the audible rumbling of his stomach.

"Lewis, you and I could split a pizza," Cameron suggested. "Half broccoli, half pepperoni?"

"Sounds like a plan," Lewis answered as the Italian eatery came into view beyond the telephone poles and cars.

"So, Cam," Daniel began. "Back to that "new student orientation" thing, you know you don't get paid or anything, right?"

"I know. I just want to take some initiative. You know, beef up my résumé a little."

"Résumé?" Lewis asked.

"You know what I mean. So I'll be known for something other than copying voices," Cameron insisted.

"Don't beat yourself up, man," Daniel encouraged. "Hey, you should call a radio station and be the voice of a celebrity sometime!"

"I'd probably face charges of fraud and get slapped with a lawsuit for slander," Cameron pointed out.

"...Oh," replied Daniel, clearly disappointed.

"Evening, boys," a voice called out from the darkness.

The trio stopped. Cameron held his bag tighter still. Lewis looked around casually. Daniel looked particularly annoyed, glancing between the origin of the voice and the Italian restaurant, hungrily anticipating his meal.

A short, stout man who looked to be pushing forty waddled toward the boys. He was dressed smartly in a gray suit with a fashionable black overcoat. In his left hand he held a leather briefcase with golden clasps. In his right, a mobile phone.

Cameron instinctively placed himself behind Lewis, who did not seem at all worried.

"Hi," Lewis said hospitably. "Need something?"

The man smiled gently. "I'm not looking for spare change, if that's what you mean." He laughed.

"Are you lost, maybe?" Daniel asked quickly, hoping to end this conversation as soon as possible. "I know this city-"

"Thank you," the man said shaking his head. "But I know the city reasonably well. What I need is for the three of you to remain perfectly calm, and fully cooperate with us."

"'Us?'" Cameron inquired.

The man nodded, his eyes trained on something behind the trio. At a sudden noise, the three mutants turned around, only to be met with three men in black shirts, each one focused on a specific target.

Daniel eyed the tense, wiry man in front of him who cupped several large, electric-blue marbles in his spider-like hands, his own glare focused on the shorter boy.

Lewis considered the solid-looking man, brandishing something that registered in the Iowan's mind as a shiny, exaggerated water pistol with a barrel's diameter the size of a nectarine.

Cameron faced the young man barely older than himself who was currently focused on texting a message on his cellular phone. The unfamiliar man briefly glanced up at the confused mutant, nodded curtly, then went back to his message.

"Sales pitch. I knew it," Daniel nodded wisely. "We filled up on souvenirs back in Cleveland, guys; we don't need any marbles or-"

He was cut short as his goon gently tossed the blue marbles toward the boy. Daniel raised a hand to bat them away, but before they made contact, the orbs began to hum and emit an ethereal glow. Daniel watched, fascinated and even entertained as they began to circle his body, like electrons compassing an atom.

"Hey, cool," he remarked, impressed. "How much are they?"

His question was ignored as the other man squeezed the trigger on his strange-looking gun. None of the boys had time to react as a jet of bright pink foam propelled toward Lewis with incredible force, knocking him to the ground and saturating him. His attacker barely ricocheted from the blast, only grunting like he'd just stubbed his toe. Though surprised and disoriented, Lewis still did not let his bag escape his grip.

"Hey!" Daniel shouted angrily. "What the hell what that for, man?"

"Precautions," the short, fat man stated nonchalantly.

Daniel flung a hand back wildly, and Cameron knew why. It was the beginning of one of his infamous sucker punches. He could extend his arm back over ten feet away, and the resulting recoil could easily knock a grown man down. Since Daniel rarely felt any physical pain, his "cartoon powers" were indeed a force to be reckoned with.

It was logical therefore that Daniel expressed a look of great surprise and confusion when, upon throwing his arm back, it did not stretch in the slightest. In fact, Daniel was certain he'd just sprained some of his typically elastic muscles.

"Ow!" he said, rubbing his shoulder. "Guys, something's wrong! I... I can't..." he stopped short as he noticed the blue marbles still encircling his body, humming and glowing. "It's these things! They're... doing something to me!"

He probably would have kept ranting, had the marbles' previous owner not pulled out an ivory device and pressed one of its buttons, instantly firing a beam of white light causing Daniel to drop to the ground, unconscious. Meanwhile, Lewis had just gotten to his feet and looked like he was about to charge the three strange men.

But he was too slow. The unidentified man fired the beam at him, as well. The six foot tall mutant toppled over like a punching bag, bits of pink foam still stuck to his body and head.

"Guys!" Cameron screamed, thoroughly panicked. He desperately wanted to help his (literally) fallen friends, but how? His mutant ability served no value or purpose in battle! For all instances and purposes, he was practically classifiable as "human."

Cameron turned to run. Not to retreat, of course, but just to escape into a small business, find a phone, and call the police. Actually, considering the advanced weaponry of the posse, perhaps the Institute should be informed first. He hadn't even taken two steps when his designated attacker casually grabbed the neckline of his shirt and threw him to the ground by the inanimate bodies of his companions, his other hand still holding his phone.

"Sorry about that," the young man said, putting the phone back to his ear. "You still there?"

Cameron turned his head back toward the first man with wide eyes. The one responsible for this outbreak of chaos.

"What is this?!" he asked terrified. "What do you people want?!"

The portly man stared at the young mutant coldly. "As I mentioned before, Mr. Smythe, we need your cooperation. But first, we would like the pleasure of your company. Perhaps not yours specifically, but theirs," he declared, pointing his phone at the two unresponsive mutants.

Cameron was left speechless. His mind was racing, unable to organize his thoughts or transform them into proper words.

"Tom," the ringleader announced. "Take Mr. Huang directly to the Alpha cell; Krieg said he wants to assess this mutant personally."

"Yes, sir," the wiry man replied.

"And Ian, bring Mr. Smythe and Mr. Weigend to General Processing for interrogation." He turned his attention back to Cameron. "Mr. Smythe, I advise you to please remain calm. Personally, I don't believe we'll be keeping you, so-"

"Keeping us where?! Who are you?!" Cameron demanded, finally regaining his speech. "And how do you know our names?!"

The man aimed an ivory contraption. "Non sequitur, young man," he replied, before pressing a large clear button and enveloping Cameron in a vivid white light.


	3. Chapter 3

_(Brief notes: Okay, this chapter is slightly longer than my first two, but there was too much detail for me to leave out. Also, the name "Koffing" is the property of the Pokemon franchise, and I certainly do not own New York University). Enjoy!_

"He's waking up," a voice sounded from somewhere.

"Mmmm?" Cameron mumbled, his eyes still shut but his body stirring against a soft chair.

Cameron felt a nudge to his side, nearly toppling over from the light impact. "You okay, man?" the unmistakable voice of Lewis asked, his usually monotone voice sounding concerned.

"Mm-hmm," Cameron replied. Suddenly, it hit him like a bolt of lighting. A dam had burst, releasing a torrent of memories that overwhelmed his mind.

"Hey!" he shouted, all traces of grogginess instantly eradicated. He stood up wildly, taking in his new surroundings.

He was in a brightly lit, bronze room about the size of his bedroom back at the Institute. The chair he'd been propped up in was a dull beige and looked surprisingly comfy, despite his situation. In the center of the room was a medium sized table of dark mahogany with gold trip here and there. There was a full length mirror on one end which Cameron suspected was one of those two-way mirrors he'd seen in the occasional crime drama. Aside from a clock on the adjacent wall and a video camera on the ceiling, there was nothing unusual about the room of which to take notice. In the chair next to his, Lewis sat with his head propped up in his hand. His breathing was faster than usual and his leg was bouncing; betraying his typically calm demeanor.

"What? Lewis? What's happening? Where are we?" Cameron asked, looking around the room.

"Damned if I know, Cam," Lewis replied sadly. "I just woke up about ten minutes ago."

"Well... Did anyone come in? Did you talk to anybody?"

"No," his friend replied. "I think they want to talk to the both of us. I just heard someone behind the mirror say you were up. I can't make smoke, either," he confessed, frowning worryingly. "Remember that pink gunk they sprayed me with? I think it somehow turned off my power. " His face twitched at the thought.

Cameron began to pace the room, looking for something, _anything_ that could get them out. He was amazed at how comparatively calm Lewis was. Of course, he was never known to overreact too much. Daniel would try to make a joke, but that wasn't Lewis's...

...Daniel?

"Dan!" Cameron exclaimed, turning back to face Lewis. "He... He's..."

"He's gone," Lewis answered, breathing a great sigh. "I haven't seen him since they-"

"Alpha."

"What?"

"The... the people who... who brought us here," Cameron explained. "Just before they hit me with that... thing... they said he was going to be brought to the 'Alpha Cell.'"

"What's that?" Lewis asked eagerly.

"I..." Cameron hesitated. He was scared. He didn't have any information about him and his friends' location. He didn't know what was going to happen to them. He was beginning to experience a panic as he had never known in his life! "... I don't know," he said at last, his chest feeling like it was being constricted by a giant snake.

A metallic ringing coupled with a hiss caused Cameron to turn around. The wall, or what he thought was a wall, promptly slid open, revealing a man of medium build with blonde hair and dressed in a black suit. He had two manilla folders tucked under his arm, and in his left hand, incredibly, he carried an extra large pizza box. In spite of his mind-numbing fear, Cameron could not help feeling a little enticed by the delicious aroma of pizza that quickly filled his nostrils. The man smiled politely, as if he were a salesman.

"Well, Mr. Smythe," the man said, adjusting his hold on the pizza. "I'll answer whatever questions I can. But, if you boys are anything like me, I didn't think you'd be up for talking without a little food in your stomach."

Cameron stared at the man, feeling a mix of fear, anger, and (guiltily) hunger. Lewis stood up, eyeing the pizza box intently.

"It's from Trobiano's," the man propositioned. "Broccoli for you, Mr. Smythe, and pepperoni for you, Mr. Wiegand."

"What are you going to do to us?" Lewis asked, noticing his friend's uneasiness.

"For the time being..." the man began ambiguously. "I'm going to feed you. My name is Karl, by the way."

Karl marched into the room wordlessly. For a split second, Cameron turned his attention to the now vacant doorway, wondering if he could run away for help. But before he could even weigh his options, the door emitted a noisy electric hum, and slid shut with surprising speed and dexterity.

The box was set atop the table and opened, revealing a tempting broccoli/pepperoni pizza which the boys looked at with considerable interest.

"Now, don't worry," Karl said, now setting down some paper plates and napkins. "It hasn't been tampered with or anything. This is just so we can get to know each other without an empty stomach hindering our progress. As a matter of fact, I'll gladly throw myself on your leftovers if you can't finish it."

Cameron was dumbfounded. He didn't know this man, and he had no idea what his intentions were. Then again, he wanted information, and perhaps the best way to attain it would be to play along with the man's mock hospitality.

"Okay," Cameron said shakily. "But could you tell us where our friend is, first?" Lewis nodded in agreement.

"Sure," responded Karl. "Mr. Huang is in another detainment cubicle. We would have put the three of you together, but Mr. Krieg (that's the head honcho here) wanted to talk with him alone. I think he wanted to see that mutant up close."

Lewis's jaw dropped. "Oh, yes," Karl volunteered upon noticing the younger man. "I'm afraid your secret is out. We know you're mutants, and rest assured you will be treated much more humanely than you might think."

Lewis and Cameron exchanged worried glances. "Come on boys," Karl commanded. "Your pizza is getting cold."

**********

"So you see, Mr. Huang," Sam said gently, holding his ivory gizmo gingerly. "Your two friends are doing just fine." The visual screen on the gadget was small and slightly blurred, but in perfect color. Daniel recognized the telltale shapes and clothes of his friends and felt a great weight lift off his shoulders.

When Daniel finally woke up, he wasted no time in trying to escape the gold colored room with a rust colored metal table in the center. Unfortunately, with the infernal blue marbles constantly swarming around his body with their endless humming, his abilities were somehow neutralized. By the time the nervous looking man had unsteadily stepped into the room, Daniel had already propped his Converse sneakers up on the table, his hands behind his head with a growing anxiety and growling stomach.

In truth, Daniel was desperate to know the whereabouts of Lewis and Cameron. But he tried not to worry. He never tried to worry or become afraid. His reasoning was, if you've got to go, go with a smile. He had held that philosophy in high regard for years, and the subsequent sense of humor and confidence he developed as a result had served him well with friends and superiors alike.

Still, he felt his stomach unclench upon seeing the uninjured forms of his companions. With a raised eyebrow, Daniel turned to face Sam.

"Tell the other guy in the room with them that you're supposed to deliver the _pizza_ to the _customers_. Not abduct the customers and give them a waiting room. Defeats the whole purpose of ordering in," he recited, leaning his head back.

Sam gave a nervous laugh and continued. "Well, first of all, Mr. Huang," he began, saying his name as "Who-Ang" instead of the proper "Wh-Ong." "I'd like to apologize for your sudden and unexpected... uh... delivery here..."

Daniel lazily rolled his head toward the unassuming man who looked to be sweating slightly.

"But we... we're very interested in what you can do. You... Your abilities, specifically. We tried to ask mutants to visit us voluntarily, but that merited very few positive results. I... I suppose you're feeling a little scared, right now, but let me assure you-"

"Scared?" Daniel asked with a wry smile. "Nah. You know, it's weird, but I've got the feeling that I'm going to be just fine, here. I mean, you guys aren't some major organization bent on world domination, are you?"

"Oh, no; nothing like that."

"Right. And you know how I know? It's because evil corporations like that hire people who have no fear or conscience. You don't strike me as that kind of employee."

"Well... I-"

"You lack the ambition and extravagance of a heartless minion," Daniel summarized. "You have no passion, no enthusiasm... Heck," he said, throwing up his arms. "You look like you're just about to loose your virginity!"

Sam opened his mouth to retort, but he was immediately cut off as an uproarious laugh filled the room.

Daniel craned his neck and noticed that one of the walls had disappeared. In its place stood a huge man with chocolate brown hair, dressed in a forest green suit and wearing expensive Italian shoes.

"Heh... Sorry, Sam," the giant announced. "But that's the sort of charismatic wit I'm so fond of." The man lumbered into the room. "You're sharp, young man. That's never a bad quality to possess, you know. Gives you an advantage in any conversation."

Sam jumped to his feet and scurried to the doorway, which closed as he did. The man sat down across from Daniel and placed both arms on the table, leaning forward expectantly. "How are you, Mr. Huang? You can call me Mr. Krieg."

Daniel considered Krieg briefly. He hadn't met anyone with more self-assurance than himself before. Krieg's age was difficult to determine. Although his eyes looked tired and baggy, the rest of his face was smooth and youthful, giving him the appearance of someone no older than thirty. He noticed that Krieg wore a bright emerald ring on his left hand, and a solid gold watch on his other. This man had obviously done very well for himself in whatever career he had chosen.

"Well, I'm hungry, number one," Daniel remarked. "And I'm a little pissed off that I'm out late on a school night," Krieg laughed his great laugh again. "And these fruity marbles are giving me a headache."

"Ah," Krieg said, now noticing the orbs whizzing around like vultures swooping around a meal. "I had my boys in the lab make those. I designed them myself. You see, I have it on very credible authority," he said, jerking his head toward Sam momentarily. "That your mutant abilities are stemmed from the fact that you are... unbound by our physical laws. What those orbs are doing, is they're emitting a "dimensional retardant" to keep your body mass in line with the physics of _their_ _own_ existence. Quite ingenious, if you don't mind my saying."

Daniel blinked. This man's technical prowess and authority was a little unnerving.

"They also emit a frequency that disrupts the vibrations of air molecules in your vicinity that you might try to tamper with," Krieg explained. "Just in case you thought of making a mallet or something."

"I... considered it," Daniel admitted.

"Well, now that we've cleared that up," Krieg decided, holding a hand out to Sam. "Let's get to know each other better." Sam gave his boss a manilla folder, then discreetly stepped out of the room. Krieg set the folder down and examined its contents.

"Okay, now... Daniel Huang; am I saying that right?" Daniel nodded, impressed. "Born January 30th, 1985 in Manhattan, New York... Your parents emigrated, did they not?"

"Yeah. From Hong Kong about thirty years ago."

"Hong Kong..." Krieg repeated, impressed. "Your father is... head of the Economics department at New York University? That's quite a distinction. Does your mother work? I'm just curious."

Daniel wasn't sure how open he should be with the strange man, but he was anxious to see his friends again. "Yeah, she's a hostess at her cousin's restaurant." Daniel put both feet back onto the floor finally. "Now look, what's this all about? Why'd you ambush us? Why are we here?"

"Do you speak Cantonese?" Krieg asked casually.

"I... Yes!" Daniel snapped. "I can speak it, I can read it, and I can even write it! _Why do you care?! _"

Sam knocked on the doorway. Krieg examined the boy. "Mr. Huang, you've obviously been through a lot," the man said, closing the folder. "And I know it's late, but... the truth is, ever since I heard about what you can do, I've been wanting to see a demonstration. We happen to have an arena for our guests to try out their abilities. Would you mind-"

"_No!_" Daniel shouted, now standing up. Sadly, he was still dwarfed by the other figure in the room. "I mean... no, I don't want to! I'm not putting on some stupid show for you! I want to get my friends, get out of here and never see you or that eunuch who _works_ for you again!"

Krieg smiled, apparently amused by Daniel's antics. His ability to make people laugh did little to make him appear intimidating in the eyes of others. That, and the electric blue marbles circling him, as moths would a porch light.

"Well, that's a shame," Krieg remarked, gesturing for Sam to enter.

Sam walked in the room and shot Daniel a dirty look. Balanced precariously in his hand was a box Daniel easily recognized as the container for a Trobiano's calzone.

"I was hoping you would work up an appetite," Krieg finished, sounding almost disappointed.

Daniel froze. He felt very uncomfortable at the fact that this Krieg character knew much about him, yet Daniel still had no information as to his situation. He needed answers, and Krieg wasn't being very cooperative. He thought of Lewis and Cameron, and whether they had fared any better. Lewis could probably take care of himself, but Cameron, he was sure, would be a nervous wreck. Daniel hated to admit it, but maybe if he could see how these people operated, he might be able to figure out what their intentions were, whether his friends were in any danger, and maybe even a way to escape.

"If I do this," Daniel asked. "If I show you what I can do, will you let me out of here?"

Krieg smiled. "Only one way to find out."

**********

Meanwhile, Lewis and Cameron had been hungrily devouring their pizza. Cameron tried to push the irrational fear that it was his last meal out of his head. All the time they were eating, Karl spoke in a very professional, clear voice, trying to explain their situation as best he could.

"Put simply," Karl summarized, putting most of his attention on Lewis. "We have some useful contacts who informed us of you mutants' abilities, and we were curious. This organization believes that you may have certain talents that we'd like to study."

"Why did you-" Cameron began.

Karl held up a hand to silence him. "We had to take you by force because if too many mutants know about our existence, it might negatively affect our operations."

"What sort of operations?" Lewis demanded.

"We... aren't exactly permitted to discuss that sort of thing," Karl answered. "All we can say is that we'd like to study you until such time. By analyzing your powers, we're getting closer and closer to unlocking certain secrets about mutants which might otherwise be unattainable."

The boys just stared.

"Once we've decided that we've learned all we can from you, you will be released back to the same area we found you at. You'll find that we treat our guests with the greatest possible level of hospitality, and all we ask in return is that you keep this location a secret."

"We don't even know where this location is," pointed out Cameron.

"Well, then you've already done your part," Karl replied, smiling.

"Why did those guys hose me down?!" asked Lewis hotly in a rare display of rage.

"Hose you down? Oh, that. Well, we just coated you with a chemical created by Mr. Krieg that neutralizes smoke. Just in case you were to panic. Tomorrow we'll wash that right off you."

"Why tomorrow?" he asked.

"You have a scheduled demonstration of your abilities in the main arena at that time," Karl explained. "We had an unexpected cancellation, so we decided to put you on. Well, if there are no more questions, I think we should see about getting you boys checked into some rooms."

"We... we're staying here?" Cameron asked fearfully.

"Yes, and please understand that we can only allow you to leave at our discretion. Now, for efficiency's sake Mr. Weigand, you'll be rooming with the other mutant scheduled for tomorrow. I should warn you though, she's... well, you'll see." Karl pushed his chair back and stood up. "But don't worry; our dormitory system is two individual bedrooms connected by a communal area. Two mutants to a set. Standard procedure. You'll be safe."

Karl walked over to a corner and raised the ivory gadget to his mouth. "We're done here, Ian."

Cameron turned to Lewis, his eyes wide with fright. "I don't like this, Lewis."

"I know, Cam," he responded. "But we don't have a choice."

"But-"

"_No_," Lewis whispered urgently. We can't make a run for it now; we might get hurt. I can't use my powers now, and you..." he trailed off at seeing Cameron's pitiful expression. "We need to try and find Dan first, and then figure out what this place is. Who these guys really are."

"We need to find a way to contact the Institute."

"I know, Cam," Lewis bit his lip. "I know..."

The door slid open, and one of the men the boys had seen earlier stood waiting, holding that same odd ivory object. "Mr. Smythe, would you please go with Ian? Mr. Weigand, please come with me."

Without waiting for a response, Ian stepped toward Cameron, his weapon raised.

**********

Within a few minutes, Lewis was being escorted down a long, dimly lit hallway lined with silver doors with red lights at their corners. He was feeling a mixture of fear, confusion and rage at these people for having abducted him and his friends. Moreover, they were being deliberately unclear as to their true motivations. Lewis was a prisoner and a hostage. The very thought rattled him to the core.

Finally, he and Karl stopped before one of the uniform doors. Karl typed a few symbols on a keypad, and with that same electric hum the door slid open. The duo was met with a layer of clear plexiglass, and Lewis stopped short.

The room was, as had been described, a communal area, complete with two soft chairs, a bookshelf crammed with books, a small table, a medium sized television with a video game system hooked up, and even a water cooler with paper cups. But all of that was invalid compared to what Lewis had his gaze locked on.

There was a girl seated on one of the chairs. She looked young; about twenty, perhaps. Her body was tense and stabile, like a cat waiting for a mouse to blunder across its path. She was hunched over, her elbows perched on her thighs with her fingers intertwined and placed directly underneath her chin. Her gaze was focused on the floor, yet her brow was furrowed in intense concentration and her breathing slow and controlled. Her long dark-brunette hair flowed down around her neck like a waterfall of silk. Her golden-tan skin was smooth; not a single mark or imperfection. The girl was dressed in a black T-shirt with matching pants; not even slightly large on her, highlighting her voluptuous figure.

Lewis could not help but stare at her full, sensuous lips; her perfectly shaped nose and thin, delicate eyebrows. She was a stunning sight, this female.

Were his predicament so serious, Lewis would have thought nothing of trying to strike up a conversation with the girl that might lead to dinner and a movie the following weekend.

Karl held down another button on the keypad. "Mutant 135," he asked, his voice much less affable than it had been before. "Move to the back of the room."

Mutant 135, as she was called, did not move. She did not even acknowledge that Karl had spoken. Lewis wondered if the room's sound system was perhaps malfunctioning. But Karl sneered and pressed the button with greater force. "Mutant 135, move to the back of the room, NOW!"

The sudden increase in volume made Lewis twitch. There were a few very tense moments. Finally, very slowly, the girl lifted her head to the two men, her eyes practically burning with rage.

"Or what?" she asked in a voice that, despite being quiet and controlled, still made Lewis feel uneasy. "What will you do to me? What _can_ you do to me?"

Lewis heard Karl swallow hard. Clearly this was one of their more difficult "guests."

"Well," said Karl, his voice wavering a little. "We could put some blood on your hands."

In an instant, Karl whipped out the ivory device whose purpose and design was a mystery and pointed it straight at Lewis.

"Is that what you want, Miss?" he asked viciously. "A little mutant blood for a change of pace?"

The girl looked for a moment that she wanted to jump out of the chair, for all the good it would do. Her hands were clenched so hard her knuckles had begun to whiten. In one long controlled movement, she stood up and walked a few steps back, her gaze averted from the duo.

"Good," said Karl, punching in a combination.

The wall slid open and before Lewis had time to examine the hall more closely, Karl grabbed him roughly by the arm and threw him into the room. Lewis stumbled, all the while keeping his gaze on the girl, who stood as still as a pillar.

"Good luck, kid," Karl offered as he pressed a few more buttons, closing the glass door. Lewis had just enough time to register one last look at his captor before the great steel door slid shut and the electric humming began anew. Lights flickered on in his new abode, blanketing his surroundings in a white glow.

Without so much as a pause, the girl moved back to her seat and resumed her previous position, her hair swaying until it finally came to rest.

Lewis was unsure of what to do. He felt he should say something... anything to ensure himself that he would be on reasonably friendly terms with this mutant. He silently hoped that her anger would only be directed toward her captors, leaving him mercifully absolved.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Silence.

"Um... Do you know who these people are?" he ventured, wondering if perhaps she could volunteer some information.

Silence.

"How long have you-"

"Be quiet," she interrupted, her hands still under her chin. She said it with directness and force. It sounded like she was used to giving orders. Moreover, it appeared that she was used to being obeyed, so Lewis decided to hold his tongue for the moment.

"Don't move around," she commanded. "Don't make noise," she widened her eyes and shook her head. "And don't try talking to me."

Lewis never thought for an instant to disobey her. He wordlessly took his seat in the opposite chair.

For ten minutes, all was quiet. Then, very suddenly, the girl turned her head and examined Lewis from head to toe. Lewis felt like he was being observed under a microscope. Finally, the girl stood up and marched over to the boy, glaring down with unusual curiosity.

"You're a mutant, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me your name."

"Lewis-"

"Your _mutant_ name!" she screamed.

Lewis shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Um..." he began, mentally admonishing his brother for deciding on his mutant name. "Koffing."

Blank shock registered on the girl's face for a split second, before being twisted to an image of anger and disgust. "Are you serious?"

"...Yes," he admitted. "My younger brother started calling me-"

"Be quiet!" she ordered again. "No details about that sort of thing. What are your abilities?"

"I... make smoke. I... I mean that I can cloak myself in smoke through my skin. I can also breathe any air, even if it's toxic."

The girl let her gaze linger, appraising her roommate's possibilities. "Did they make it so you have no powers?"

"Yes. They covered me with some gunk that-" this time Lewis silenced himself.

The female shook her head, sneering. "You'll be gone, soon."

"What?" he asked.

"You'll be gone, soon!" she shouted, as a general would his (or her) troops. "When they see what you can do, if they decide they like it, you'll be gone for good! Nobody will hear from you ever again. You're their puppet, now. Their little wind-up toy! You'll see. They all see," she trailed off, returning to her chair. Her body looked like it had been sculpted from steel.

"Who are you?" Lewis asked with some insistence. He was now feeling a little upset with this girl barking orders at him and belittling him to such a state.

She turned and glared at him with such malevolence that Lewis felt his skin crawl.

"I am Die-Hard," she replied. "And I chose that name for myself... _Koffing._"


	4. Chapter 4

_(Author's notes: Sorry this took a while, but I had some other things going on at the time. For the sake of time, I did not include Lewis and Die-Hard in this chapter, but fear not, they'll make another appearance soon. I was very anxious to describe Hammerspace's abilities and show what he could do in the thick of battle. Oh yeah, and Star Wars belongs to George Lucas)._

Factoring in Cameron's apprehension and fear concerning the unfriendly man who held his arm in a vice-like grip and with that strange ivory creation pressed firmly against his lower back, it was not at all unusual that he willingly allowed himself to be led to a gray, nondescript cell. He did not even voice a complaint when the door slid open and he was roughly pushed inside, the exit sealing itself almost immediately.

Cameron pressed his hands against the steel doors in a vain attempt to pinpoint a weak spot or perhaps thwart its defenses. After pounding on the door weakly for several minutes, Cameron wearily rested his forehead against the steel compartment and gave a great sigh of defeat.

It was only when his efforts ceased that Cameron finally became aware of the soft sobbing coming from behind him.

Slowly, carefully, he turned, half expecting to see someone close to death. One of the room's chairs had been turned around completely, and its occupant was seated unsteadily on the soft cushion. Her body shook and shuddered with every powerful expression of despair.

The girl had the chair's back facing the door, so Cameron could not see her face. From his position, he could make out a head of long, inky black hair and a violet shirt just beyond the chair's backrest. The girl must have had her hands pressed tightly over her face, for Cameron could not see any visible skin at the moment.

His heart sank at the pitiful sight and sound of his unwilling roommate. Cameron had already been through a terrifying ordeal. He had been strong-armed, abducted, and his fate was unknown. He was still unsure as to whether he would live through the night in the presence of the odd men with their hive mentality, brandishing ivory... things.

But that was irrelevant next to this latest development. Cameron decided that, with another mutant being reduced to tears, _he_ would have to be the brave one. _He_ would have to be the one to offer words of comfort and reassurance with an unfaltering demeanor. He was not sure he was up to the task. He had never considered himself brave... Were it not for the wave of compassion he felt in the presence of this mutant, he would have thought nothing of simply cowering in a corner until such time.

The boy gave a nod of determination. Trapped though they might be, he was going to at least try and alleviate the suffering of another, even if it might be too late for him to save his own future.

Taking a small step toward the weeping female, Cameron cleared his throat loudly. However, even with the reverberative qualities of the enclosed room, the girl's cries overpowered them with very little effort.

"Hey," Cameron said politely, yet firmly the best he could manage at the moment.

With a sharp intake of breath and instantaneous reflexes, the room's other occupant jumped up and turned wildly to face the voice.

Cameron was momentarily stunned. Although he was somewhat accustomed to seeing mutants with slight physical abnormalities (the image of the 7 foot tall boar once again pushed itself to the front of his mind and demanded itself to be seen), he had never seen a mutant quite as unique as this one, before.

Her hair was of the loveliest brunette color and velvety texture. But it dramatically contrasted with her linen-white skin. Indeed, it looked as though someone had overturned a bag of powdered sugar onto this poor girl. Cameron briefly considered her to be an albino, but then, didn't albinism also mandate a lack of pigmentation in hair follicles, as well? Although, she very easily could have applied some hair coloring, as he was fairly sure some girls did.

Her eyes rooted the boy to the spot. Although the whites of her eyes looked to be healthy and in good condition, her pupils were, amazingly, pure vermillion, shining like two of the rarest, most valuable rubies ever seen by mankind.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She shakily took a step back, bracing herself against the far wall.

"It's okay," Cameron assured her quietly, raising a hand. "I... I'm like you. I'm a mutant, too." Cameron mentally grimaced at his rather liberal interpretation of the word "mutant" in his case.

The girl's teary eyes wavered, uncertain.

"They took me, too," Cameron continued, his initial surprise at her unorthodox coloring already passed. "Those men in black with the... um..." he mimed a small firearm, to which the girl made no response. "Things," he settled, "They took two of my friends, also. They're in other cells right now. I... I don't know who these people are or what they exactly want with us..."

He took a deep breath, desperately trying to push his fear out of his mind, for the sake of this female. "But you're not alone. I'm here with you, and I promise that I'll help you get through this the best I can."

She kept her gaze locked on him, her tomato-red eyes still blinking back tears.

"I know you're scared. So am I," he admitted. "But... there's a chance we can find our way out of this."

The pure white girl studied her roommate intently. He couldn't be sure if his words were even having an effect on her. "My name is Cameron," he said, hoping to appeal to her on a personal level.

The tension in the room was so thick one was apt to asphyxiate in it. The girl's tears had finally stopped, and she looked to be making up her mind about something.

"I..." she whispered, still choking back another sob. "I'm Jennifer."

**********

Although Daniel was marching down a long, gray corridor with two men in black flanking each of his shoulders and those insipid blue marbles humming and whirling about, his mind was very far away. He wildly searched his mind for every science-fiction movie he had ever seen or comic book he had ever read, hoping to gain some insight as to the situation he was in.

On the plus side, he was still in perfect health, despite being rendered unconscious by a ray of what he could only describe as "funny light." Also, the prospect of a calzone all to himself had perked up his mood to an extent. Then again, he was also being forced to display his mutant abilities to an unknown audience for unknown purposes. Perhaps his captors would take a page out of the history books and do away with him if they were unsatisfied with his performance, as was common practice in the ancient Roman Empire.

Daniel had already come to two conclusions. First, he would have to find some way to contact his friends. They would have to put their heads together in hopes of either escaping this place or getting in touch with the Institute so reinforcements could be sent to their aid.

Second, there was something odd about "Mr. Krieg," as he was only known. Daniel didn't know why, but something about that man unsettled him greatly. Perhaps it was the unusual level of confidence he seemed to carry. It seemed that Krieg, in any situation, was automatically guaranteed to come out on top. He didn't strike Daniel as the type of man who had ever know failure in his life.

"So... So, you see, Mr. Huang," Sam rambled on, once again mispronouncing Daniel's surname. "This is really very straightforward. We're going to put you in an arena with plenty of open space." He fidgeted slightly before continuing. "We... We'll deactivate the orbs for you so that you may use your powers."

"On what?" Daniel asked in a bored voice.

"What?" Sam asked, startled.

"Use my powers on what?"

"Oh! Um... oh. We've specially designed some opponents... um... for you to interact with. They're relatively safe, but please be on your guard," he answered, his clipboard almost slipping out of his grasp.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Ambiguous," Daniel replied, smirking.

Two of the uniformed men chuckled, but Sam appeared lost. "Ambiguous? I don't get it," he stated in a hushed voice. "What does he mean?"

There was not a chance to answer, as the group had finally stopped before a huge pressure hatch with a keypad on its front. Sam shakily typed in a long code before the door opened with a hiss.

"This ought to be good," one of the men said before shoving the mutant into the room, the door mercilessly shutting when his body was fully inside.

It was, as Sam had said, an arena. Roughly equivalent to a basket ball stadium in size. The walls were metallic silver in color. There were no windows. There was, however, a mirror on the far end on one of the walls that Daniel suspected was one of the two-way looking glasses he had seen in the occasional detective film.

Behind said mirror, Sam and the others marched in and took their seats around a large monitor. The screen was divided into squares, each one focused on a different area of the other room. Mr. Krieg was in the middle of the group's semicircle, puffing on another expensive cigar. On several small tables in the room, laptop computers whirred, each one with a different face being transmitted via webcam.

"Everything ready, Sam?" Krieg asked lazily.

"Yes, sir."

"Connections secure?"

"Yes, sir. Mr. Hirata is one webcam line one from Tokyo, Mr. Vanderhof is one line two from Maastricht, and Ms. Gonzales is on line three from Los Angeles."

Krieg grumbled. "I thought Anita changed her mind about this one," he whispered to Sam.

"She had a change of heart, sir. You know her company-"

"I know all about that company of hers," Krieg interrupted before switching on a microphone. "Good evening, everyone," he announced in a warm, genial voice. "And ah, oyasumi nassai, Mr. Hirata."

Mr Hirata, seated at his desk in his luxurious suite in Japan, bowed his head.

"This is a demonstration of..." he snapped his fingers.

Sam immediately jumped up with a start. "Mutant... Mutant 181! Daniel Huang, AKA: Hammerspace." He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "His abilities include: metaphysical distortion and shaping of body mass, superhuman stamina and spontaneous creation of three-dimensional objects through atomic modification of air molecules."

The executives on the computer screens nodded, impressed.

"Um... first, we deactivate his... um... marbles. Developed by the ingenious Mr. Krieg."

Krieg smiled and shrugged.

Inside the arena, Daniel's thoughts were halted as the marbles encircling his body unceremoniously clattered to the floor, their glow fading as they did.

"Finally," he said to himself. "Those were driving me-" he was once again cut short as a portion of the wall slid up.

A small, odd-looking robot clumsily wheeled its way into the room. It was of a crude design, like someone had slapped it together the night before a science fair. It had tank treads for locomotion, with a cubic body and a triangular head. A small lens was fitted on the head, watching the mutant. It had only one arm, jutting out strangely.

"They've got to be kidding me," Daniel said to the robot.

In response, the robot aimed its arm the best it could, and fired a beam of intense blue light, engulfing Daniel immediately.

Daniel screamed. The robot clicked. Krieg and his subordinates cheered.

"...guess not," Daniel admitted, covered head to toe in black ash, his body still smoking. Without a second thought, the boy went into "mutant mode" and prepared for battle. He vibrated his body instantaneously, brushing off the ash. "So that's the way you want it, eh?" he propositioned to the creation.

The robot beeped, further enticing Daniel.

"Okay..." Daniel reached one arm behind his back, his eyes closing. He concentrated, and his professor had taught him to do, on the shape and weight of a mallet. In a matter of seconds, the familiar tingling of his palm signaled that the object had just been created. The mallet, crude black in color and composed mostly of carbon, swung around and crushed the robot flat, its speaker issuing out one final beep of mercy. He released the mallet, which, since no longer being held together by its mutant creator, promptly disintegrated back into thin air.

His victory was cut short as several beeps and clicks were heard from behind him. Daniel turned, and saw another robot three times bigger than the first. He did not even have a chance to make a quip as the steel creation brought down a huge iron fist upon his head.

Krieg watched, amazed as Daniel was flatted to the shape and size of a dinner plate, making a sound akin to a moldy piece of fruit dropped from a great height.

"Is... is he..." Sam ventured to ask the transfixed people in the smaller room.

With a triumphant _boing_, Daniel's formally flat body sprung up like a coil, bouncing erratically off the walls and ceilings of the room. His muscles, skin, bones, and even clothes seemed to be made of rubber, as the boy cheered arrogantly. The robot opponent remained immobile as its computerized mind whirred, pondering this latest development.

"Would you look at that," Krieg said.

The coil finally landed on its side, resuming its human form. The mutant also known as Hammerspace grinned as he reached another hand behind his back and drew out a large, caricatured black bomb with the crude white image of a skull on its front.

"Ba-boom," he remarked unconcernedly as he chucked the explosive at the bot.

There was a tremendous explosion, followed by an intense light and raining of shrapnel, to which Daniel brought out a large black umbrella that hadn't existed a second ago. Despite his predicament, Daniel derived some feeling of enjoyment from using his powers. It gave him a sense of power and of confidence, knowing that he had been blessed with such impressive abilities.

"Just call me Mr. Game & Watch," he announced to the smoldering remains of the robot.

"Oh, yes," Krieg remarked impressed. "I like this mutant."

The others nodded, while Sam frowned in confusion. "What do you suppose," he asked the others. "He means by 'gay men watch?'"

"Krieg-san," Mr. Hirata spoke up through the computer's microphone. "I have seen enough of this one. I will send an official offer tonight after consultation with my colleagues. Thank you very much for this demonstration," he finished, bowing his head again.

"Hai," Krieg responded, also bowing.

One of the monitors switched off. "He's a valuable one," Krieg recited, still observing the mutant specimen. "Let's send in the other bots just for fun."

"Yes sir, Mr. Krieg," Sam quickly said, pressing a button on his ivory remote.

With a telltale whirring and grinding, Daniel turned to consider the dozen more robots of varying designs and sizes that now treaded their way into the arena.

"Go ahead, punks," he threatened, drawing out two large clumsy black pistols from behind his back. "Make my day..."

In less than twenty minutes, Daniel had bounced, stretched, and conjured his way to victory. Spontaneously creating everything from a frying pan to a lasso to a sword, he had beaten, dismantled, or deactivated each opponent with a sarcastic comment and unfaltering demeanor.

"That's enough!" Krieg exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Give that boy his calzone!"

**********

"I... I woke up in a tan room with one of th' men in black," Jennifer explained quietly, one ghostly hand clutched to her head. "I can't remember his name, but he said 'You're a mutant and we want t' study you for a time.' I explained my powers th' best I could. I hoped maybe if t'ey knew, I could go, but they sent me to one of t'ese rooms..."

They had already turned the chairs in the room to face one another, and Jennifer was trying to keep her composure as she described the details of her own abduction to Cameron, who listen raptly with a growing sense of sympathy. There was very little difference in their captures... these men apparently took many liberties in "recruiting" mutants for their unknown purposes. Although Cameron was very curious to know whether her coloring was a result of her X gene, he decided not to ask, for fear of offending her.

"I'm sorry," Cameron said kindly. "On your first trip abroad, too..."

She nodded. "Yeah... I didn't want to spend m' first time in America like t'is. Course, it's a lot more interestin' t'an where I'm from."

"I've seen some pictures of Ireland," Cameron said. "It looks very beautiful."

She shrugged. "You're very kind, but I wasn't plannin' on scenery when I traveled here. I was supposed t' see th' Institute."

"It's a great place," Cameron insisted, already lapsing into his tour guide persona. "They have everything you'd need, and the professor is all about helping mutants like us."

"Sounds too good t' be true," Jennifer remarked, shaking her head.

"So... what exactly is your ability?" Cameron asked, intrigued by this female.

He almost thought he saw her blush. She averted her gaze briefly before turning to face the boy. "Well... I don't really understand it," she admitted. "But I can sort of... absorb data."

"I don't understand."

"Well... If a computer has some information I need," she tried to explain, gesticulating a bit. I can put m' hand over it, and sometimes I can "hear" the data, and actually understand it."

"Oh... wow..." Cameron breathed with a little bit of jealousy. "You're like a human USB... do you have a mutant name?"

She blushed again, adjusting her position on the chair and smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt. "No..." she admitted. "Not yet... but since t'ere ain't any computers in here, t'ey decided I'd be harmless in one of t'ese rooms." Jennifer was finding it increasingly difficult to make conversation with this boy, as she was feeling a growing sense of anxiety. Not due to the fact that she was a hostage, but rather as a result of this mutant boy she was socializing with. This Cameron was the first person in practically her entire life who had not immediately made some ignorant remark about her appearance upon seeing her for the first time. He seemed to be genuinely interested in her abilities, her homeland, and most incredibly herself. That made Jennifer uneasy, although she wasn't quite sure why. "What's your ability, t'ough?" she asked, trying to avoid a lull.

Cameron paled. He had been hoping not to be asked that question. "...Why?" he asked vaguely.

"Well," Jennifer responded, shrugging. "I been talking about m'self for a while, now. I'd like to know what makes you a mutant." She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Cameron groaned inwardly. Here it was... another situation where he would explain his so-called "power," only to have it dismissed as a parlor trick. Oh, well... this girl seemed nice enough. And she'd already been through a harrowing ordeal. Might as well get it over with...

"Well... my mutant name is 'Vox,'" he began.

She frowned. "Voice?"

Cameron blinked in surprise. "I studied Latin in m' school in Cork for a bit," she explained.

"I see," he said. "Basically, I... I can..." he paused.

"Yeah?"

"Do you... do you have a favorite American film, by any chance?" he asked, decided that the direct approach was not a good idea at the time. "Something I might have seen?"

Jennifer was confused. What was he getting at? "I haven't seen t' many films," she confessed. "I... don't like to go out in public all t'at much. Oh..." she said brightening. "But I did see 'Star Wars.' All six of 'em."

Cameron cleared his throat. "_Good... Good..._" he uttered in the perfect mimicry of the evil Emperor Palpatine. "_Let the hate flow through you._"

Jennifer blinked and placed a colorless hand over her mouth.

"_Luke,_" Cameron continued in the voice of the enigmatic Darth Vader. "_I am your father._"

Her face was unreadable at that.

"_Me-sa Jar Jar Binks,_" he went on, trying to keep a straight face despite sounding now like an anthropomorphic amphibian. "_Here for comic relief._"

Jennifer furrowed her brow as she perceived the little show being put on for her.

"_What_?" he asked in a tone that would make Harrison Ford nostalgic for his youth. "_You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon, before?_"

There was a very long, awkward pause. Jennifer remained immobile, staring at Cameron. He simply fell silent and waited for her to let out a sigh of disappointment. He was used to those. He waited for her to be let down and unimpressed. Waited for her to be-

"Wow!" she cried out, smiling for the first time since they'd met. "T'at was amazing!"

"It was?" Cameron asked, stunned.

"Yes!" she shouted, her bright smile giving way to a delightful laugh. "Incredible! I never heard... I... T'at's incredible!" she said between fits of laughter. She straightened her violet top and stared at Cameron, looking entranced.

"Heh..." Cameron began, fidgeting nervously. "Thank you..."

"You must be a big hit at parties," she guessed. "Wish I had that power..."

"I'm... glad you think so," Cameron said smiling. "Most of the other mutants I know don't really think it's so useful."

"Are you serious?" she asked, incredulously. "I t'ink it's wonderful! Nobody could _ever_ be bored talking wit' you."

Cameron suddenly felt a sharp pain zigzag up his abdomen.

She leaned toward him a little. "Can you do any more?" she asked hopefully.

Cameron blushed, strangely grateful that he was a hostage for the time being.


End file.
